Page 20 of Monsters Carve Thrones
I looked back at the corpse, then at the growing pool beneath the chair. “They’ll get the message.”
And if they didn’t, I’d write it in blood again.No onestole from us.
***
The mansion was so quiet compared to the screams I had endured for the last couple of hours. I poured a finger of bourbon and stood near the glass doors, watching the storm clouds gather beyond the trees. Lightning forked in the distance. It suited the mood churning inside me. My shirt still smelled like blood beneath the clean button-up I’d thrown on for the drive. I didn’t mind.
The lock clicked.
I turned just as Adela stepped inside, hair windblown, cheeks flushed, her heels clicking across the marble. “Hey,” she said, dropping her keys onto the console. “You’re home early.”
I nodded once, eyes raking over her. She looked soft. Polished. Fresh from battle in boardrooms instead of warehouses.
She walked toward me and pressed a kiss to my cheek, then pulled back, eyes narrowing. “What is that smell?”
I smirked, unbuttoning the shirt to reveal my blood-soaked tee underneath. “It was a productive day.”
Her eyes snagged on it, and her lips parted as if she were about to scold me. Instead, she sighed, moving past me toward the kitchen and kicking off her heels with a practiced flick of her feet. “Jesus.”
I followed her, drink in hand. I watched the curve of her hips and how she moved so casually in a house built by violence. I waited until she’d filled a glass with water and turned to face me again. “You’re going to need to come with me tomorrow.”
Her brow arched. “To what? A meeting?”
“Of sorts.”
She paused, reading me. “Rafe…”
“It’s about Damien Voss.”
Her mouth tugged downward.
I stepped closer, sliding a hand over her lower back. “It’s a mutual client situation, baby.You’reprotecting his digital footprint.I’mprotecting the fucking empire he built on trafficking and oxy. Problem is, he got sloppy. And now some Albanians think he owes them blood.”
“So?” she asked, jaw tightening. “Kill them.”
My jaw clenched at her casual attitude surrounding death.So fucking hot.“I could,” I said softly. “But this is political. They want a show. Voss wants reassurance. And honestly?” I tilted my head, watching her carefully. “He doesn’t trust me. He trustsyou.”
She frowned deeper, hand gripping the glass tighter. “You want me there to make the threat look... cleaner.”
“Cleaner,” I agreed. “And colder. You walk into that warehouse in heels and red lipstick, and they’ll listen. You don’t even have to do much.”
She was quiet for a second. “Unless I do.”
I leaned in, my hand sliding around to her stomach, pulling her back into me. My mouth brushed her ear. “You’ve done it before.”
She didn’t flinch.
“You’ve slit throats. Burned evidence. Shot men in the head withoutblinking.” My voice dropped lower. “You’ve painted the walls with blood for me.”
She let out a breath. “And?”
“And I think you like it. I think you enjoy wielding the power of death like I do.”
She huffed out of her nostrils, but she didn’t deny it.
I kissed the curve of her neck, my grip tightening. “There’s something about seeing you covered in blood that makes me want to fuck you until your knees give out.”
She turned in my arms then, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed. “You’re a lunatic.”
